THE 63RD HUNGER GAMES
by happphungrygames
Summary: The story of the 63rd Hunger Games Victor, Eve, district 11  - sixth chapter added! IT KEEPS GETTING BETTER FROM HERE.
1. Life at Home

It's a long time before I fall into the hands of sleep, but feels like only minutes have passed when a heavy knock on the door from the peacekeepers confirms that it's time to get up. The sun is shining, already hot through the dirty open window. This is the first day I have missed the sunrise in almost an entire year, I feel partly worried that I wasn't up to see it, as the thought dawns on me that it could've been my last, but I push it to the side of my head. No one wants to think that way on the day of the reaping. I have made it through three years of being eligible to be picked as a tribute for the Hunger Games and don't plan on going anywhere today.

As I scrape the knotty, tangled, brown mess of my hair out of my eyes and mouth, I spot a pretty yellow dress hanging from the end of my bed. My mother must have left it there for me to wear to the reaping. It is the colour of the sunflowers that sway in the summer breeze out in the fields. Many times a day when we are working the land, I turn to look at them. I pull the dress over my head. It fits well and somehow makes me look less scrawny then I am.

One of the nicer things we have in the house is an ancient mirror, my great-grandfather was one of the first victors of the games, and it was his present to my great-grandmother, made in district one but bought from the Capitol. I finish brushing my hair out and take a peek into the mirror. I look quite pretty, a rare occurrence. My tan skin, dark eyes and hair match the dress well.

Out in the kitchen pots and pans are already at work, my mother is preparing the little food we have for the celebrations tonight. My brother, Stef and sister, Abbey run screaming and laughing, chasing a chicken through the house, and knocking over a pot of the tesserae grain on the way back outside. They are still too young to be told about the Hunger Games. That every year, two children of the district, one young male and female are selected from each of the twelve districts to fight to the death in an arena. I have known nothing different.

Wrapped in an old towel on the table is my reaping day gift from my family. It is a pastry, still hot from the bakery. Warm arms wrap around me from behind and my mother plants a kiss on my cheek.

"Better eat it up while it is still warm, Eve", she tells me. I thank her, and cut it into quarters, a piece for my mother, sister, brother and myself.

I take a small bite out of the quarter, flavour floods my mouth. We rarely get anything from the bakery; it is too expensive for us. Treats like these are saved for special days.

"This must have cost you a fortune", I say, feeling bad.

"Don't worry about it, it wasn't much" she says kindly, but her eyes speak another language. I can tell that she is worried. "Here, put yourself to use and take these to Maisie." She hands me a bunch of carrots, grown from our vegetable patch. I give her a reassuring hug, finish off my slice of the pastry and step outside into the sun. The hut across from ours belongs to Maisie's family. Since she has so many mouths to feed, and it is only my mother and I to look after Stef and Abbey, we have a sort of had a food agreement since my father died when he was bitten by a snake in the harvest season after the twins were born. We supply her family with half of everything we grow in the vegetable garden, and whenever a flock of grouse fly into the orchards where her family works, we are sure to eat well that night.

Maisie opens the door and greets me with her kind smile, she is a tiny woman, as are the rest of her family, and in her arms she nurses the newest addition to the family. Maisie's eyes light up when she sees the carrots and asks me to hold the baby while she puts them away and fetches some meat in exchange.

I bounce the baby up and down and she giggles, probably making fun of my terrible baby voice. Rue is her name, she has beautiful dark skin and eyes like her mother, and an elastic band holds her curls off her face. I bend down to pick a dandelion that is growing amongst the yellowing weeds beside the path, and put it behind her ear. She is growing up too fast.

"Happy Hunger games, Evie!" she says in her fake Capitol accent, laughing at my disgusted face.

"As happy as they'll ever be, the odds better be in my favour", I say. Maisie chuckles and takes Rue from my hands, beyond the jokes there is some seriousness, but again I push it from my mind and try to smile. I tell her I have chores to do, and we say goodbye and I head back home.

I busy myself for the rest of the morning with cleaning, and am beginning to bury myself into a book when the dreaded Capitol anthem blasts out of the speakers in the street. The signal to start to move to our designated areas for the reaping.


	2. The Reaping

I don't think I could ever get past the feeling that comes upon me every time we are called for the reaping. All I can think about is the two families of the children forced to into the arena, forced to watch their child die a horrible death on television. How the Capitol people can find this entertaining disgusts me. If I ever could get the chance I would kill every last one of them, but even thinking that would mean a public execution for me. But I would much rather die with dignity then have some sick minded Career cut my face up, all in the name of a good show for the cameras.

"Eve Venter", I tell the peacekeeper in charge of marking off the names of the fifteen year olds, and am then guided into a packed pen full of other girls my age, sealed off by ropes and guarded by peacekeepers at every corner. I don't even bother pushing past people to find my friends, so I bite my nails and fidget with my long braid for the next five minutes until the Mayor of district eleven asks for silence.

I only catch small phrases about what the mayor is saying. I have heard it time and time before. The history of the rebellion, the rise of the Capitol, it feels like hours instead of minutes. I can almost feel the fear drumming through everyone's ears as the reaping draws closer.

The Capitol woman, a new face, is welcomed to the stage. She introduces herself with an annoying, high-pitched voice. Her skin is dyed a dark blue, and shiny gems, shine like stars on her skin in the light. "Right on to the reaping then!" she chirrups. "Ladies first, as always!"

The cameras point towards the roped off pen that we are in, and sweep back to Angela, the capitol lady who is now beginning to swirl her blue hand, covered in rings, around in the glass bowl containing the girls names.

Fear once again ripples through me, paralysing my arms. Angela pulls out a slip of paper, and waves it around over her head. A chill runs through my spine as she carefully opens the slip of paper.

"Eve Venter!"

It takes me about seven seconds of looking around to realise the slip of paper she just read out had my name on it. I gasp. I can see Angela's eyes searching eagerly over the groups of girls for me. Somewhere in the crowds of parents and onlookers, I hear a horrible scream. My mothers. Everyone else is as shocked as I.

I am escorted by peacekeepers up to the stage, their guns pointed at my back. But I couldn't run away even if I wanted to. Silent tears roll down my cheek as Angela squeals in delight when she sees me, saying something about how beautiful I am. I stand up on the stage, body numb.

"Alistair Merrick!"

The name brings me out of my dazed state, My eyes search for him in the crowd. His face falls when he realises that it is him, and so does mine. Alistair is seventeen; this was his last year of being legible to be reaped. At least he stands a chance in the arena; he is strong, and good-looking. He is sure to have an endless supply of sponsors.

We stand on the stage for a few more minutes, as Angela gives thanks to our families. I can feel Alistair shake as he stands next to me, trying not to cry. I want to take his hand, but I know that in a matter of days he will be just another threat, an obstacle if I am to ever make it back to eleven. The Anthem blares once more, and peacekeepers line up around us to march us into the Justice Building.


	3. on the train

The last few days have been hectic, final goodbyes, tears, and the stabbing pain in my chest from knowing that I will never see my family again. On my wrist I wear my district token, a bracelet woven out of dry grass with colourful beads intertwined and the pretty lights of the glass playing off the train window. My mother made it for me. My eyes fog over once more as I think of them.

There have been several knocks on the door, none of which I have answered. I sit curled up on the double bed in my quarters, not crying, just thinking. I sit up and decide to take a look around the room. The room I am in at the moment is bigger than my house at home alone. The walls are lined with some sort of soft material, judging from pictures I have seen of Capitol people, it is velvet, something that we could never afford.

I open one of the cupboards, which turns out to be a small door. I have to actually take a step back to take in the whole picture. Inside the room are shelves and shelves of clothes. I pull my yellow dress over my head and swap it for a loose fitting white top, long baggy pants that gather around my lower legs and a pair of boots, similar to the ones I have at home, with the laces stopping just before my knees. Now curious, I decide to have a look around the train.

"Eve" I turn around. Alistair is standing behind me, also changed into Capitol clothing.

"Hello", I say in reply.

"I knocked on your door, you weren't there, I thought you might want to talk"

"What is there to talk about?"

"Family, the Games, I don't know."

"Why would I want to talk about them?" I snap, getting angry. "It's not like I am ever going to see them again, is it?" A tear rolls down my cheek; I swipe it away with my hand.

"Don't talk like that" He says.

"Why shouldn't I?" "At least you stand a chance in the arena, if you win, look after my family, ok?" I say, tears now streaming down my face. I turn, embarrassed, and start walking the other way, but he stops me. I turn. He is holding out his arms. I hesitate, but walk into them, we are both crying. We may not know each other but he is my last piece of district eleven.

He feels like Home.

We walk into the dinner compartment together. Angela, still blue, but sporting a crazy blonde wig and changed into a red dress that trails along the floor, takes my hand and Alistair's with the other. She introduces us to the staff, and a man who I recognize as our mentor, Mark. He must be going on fifty, I notice the dark rings around his eyes as I shake his hand. Three bright pink women bustle into the room. They squeal when they see me and introduce themselves as my prep team. Another group of women, this time a blinding shade of blue, turn out to be Alistair's prep team.

Cardboard stands of paper with our names written on them in dainty writing mark our spots at the dinner table. Alistair sits down opposite me. I take a look down at my plate; it is surrounded by a scary assortment of knives and forks. Angela sees my puzzled look and laughs.

"Start with the knife and fork on the outside, Dear", she says kindly. I pick them up, and Alistair does the same.

Soon enough, the food starts arriving, and I realise how hungry I am. By the time that everybody has found their place around the table and sat down, there are so many dishes I don't know where to start. Soups, salads and every type of meat. Most of the stuff I put on my plate is unfamiliar. I take a bit into a piece of foreign meat, and my eyes widen at the amazing taste. The juices dribble down my chin and I quickly wipe them off with my sleeve. Angela gives me what she thinks is a disapproving look, but I soon notice that she can't frown. Alistair sees me and laughs, choking on his orange juice, causing me to laugh as well. I realise it's the first time I have smiled since my name was read out at the Reaping. He sees my troubled face.

"Hey, lighten up." He says with a smile, taking a huge bite into a leg of chicken. "We only have a few weeks to live anyway so make the most of it," he chuckles. So decide to make the most of this meal and fatten up for the arena. Alistair and I stuff ourselves until we cannot eat another bite, then we retreat to my room, order more food, and watch the Capitol TV all night.

He turns out to be quite a nice boy. We talk for hours about home, all the good and bad, how good the food is, and wonder about what the Capitol will be like.

It is getting close to two in the morning, and I am nearly asleep, curled up on the sofa on his lap. He doesn't seem to mind, and plays with my hair. It's almost like we have known each other forever. He sighs and gets up.

"I'm going to bed now", he says, stretching his arms and yawning. "Rest up for tomorrow, you know." I nod, give him a quick hug, which surprises me more than him, and crawl into my bed. After I close my eyes, I can feel him standing in the doorway for a bit, and then goes back to his room. My eyes shut before I can think anymore.


	4. A day in the Capitol

I start the day with a six O'clock wakeup, which is a change from the sleep-ins I have been allowed recently. I stand in the middle of my room while my prep team Cecilia, Poppy and Tiffany fuss over my hairy legs, ripping out the hair from the roots using pink sticky wax and a piece of material. Cecilia nearly faints at the site of my nails, or where nails should be. I bit them all off in anticipation of the reaping. Poppy then applies fake nails to my fingers, leaving them a neutral colour. More of the wax is applied around my eyebrows, and then Tiffany gets to work on my hair. She slathers it in goo, and when it is washed out, it is left silky and shiny, with bits of a lighter brown showing through. My makeup is done, and once I am pronounced camera-worthy, they lead me to a huge glass window to see the Capitol.

I see Alistair sitting in a padded chair, who looks as though he has also been attacked by his prep team. The view is astonishing. Marc pulls up a chair next to us and sits down to admire the view for possibly the thirtieth time. The train rolls into the Capitol streets. People stop what they're doing to watch the train go past, some waving.

The train stops shortly after we pass a towering building called the training centre. The prep team puts me into a yellow dress, similar to the one I wore to the reaping, and a bunch of peacekeepers form a ring around me to escort me to the building where the Tribute quarters are. I go over in my head what Marc told me to do. _Act sweet, innocent and try to be nice to the Capitol people_. So before the door of the train opens I put a big smile on my face.

But nothing can prepare me for the cameras.

The moment I step out of the carriage, my eyes fill with lights and for a moment I am stunned. Reporters for the Capitol yell at me, begging for a few words. There are people everywhere, trying to get a look at the district eleven tributes. I panic, frightened. Marc's words roll through my head. _Sweet, innocent. _That is what I am. I turn around, looking for Alistair. He is behind me, trying to see where the entrance is, but there are too many people around to see a thing. I act confused, scared. Put a hand to my forehead. People are starting to notice.

"Is she alright?" I hear a Capitol women squeak. More cameras buzz around me, eating up my act. This is what I want. I put the most distressed look on my face possible. and make sure Alistair is behind me, I pretend to faint.

Luckily, he catches me. My limp body curved gracefully in his arms. People shriek, I can feel the cameras centimetres from my face. I can hear Angela screaming for help, her heels clattering over the tiles towards me. Alistair carries me inside. I open my eyes slowly and groan. We are in a lift. His concerned face looks down at me, and everybody sighs with relief. I decide not to tell them that I was faking.

Alistair carries me to my room, orders hot chocolate, and sits on my bed while I drink it.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine." I mumble, closing my eyes.

"Well we don't want you keeling over in the Arena, do we?" he says. "Sleep for the rest of the day and I will wake you up before dinner." He smiles, taking the empty cup from my hand and patting my head with the other. I wriggle under the covers further and push his hand away. My eyes close before he leaves.

"Your all over TV", Alistair tells me at dinner, stuffing his face with buttery potato.

"The star of the show, actually", Angela tells me, taking a mini bottle of perfume out of her pink purse and making a scene of squirting it around the room. "It's so stuffy in here", she says, nose wrinkled. "I was worried for a minute-"

"That she wouldn't get any sponsors?" Marc says inaudibly, with a full mouth.

"Well, yes", Angela says doubtfully. My heart sinks. Sponsors can really turn your odds around in the Hunger Games, and I had just ruined my chances of getting any. I had put myself across as weak by pretending to faint, and no one wants to waste their money sponsoring someone who will just die in the initial bloodbath.

"As far as I know, the people seem to like her." My mood lifts when he says this, but my odds won't improve any more than what they are at the moment. The Tributes from one and two have been training their whole lives for the Hunger Games, and are probably crafty and familiar with a number of weapons that would make a slow, horrible death for whoever steps in their way to becoming the Victor. I on the other hand, have never had the chance to learn how to wield any type of weapon. Although you aren't meant to, the Careers start to train years before the reaping. Security is much tighter in eleven. If anybody was found with a weapon, it would result in a public execution. The only time I have to train is the few days we get in the training centre.

I am introduced to my stylist, Blue. I have never thought of using colours for names but it suits her blue hair quite well. Unlike my Prep team, she has very pale skin, and has applied heavy eye makeup. They are also unnaturally blue.

"They're contact lenses." She tells me. I still have no idea what they are but we are excused from dinner to talk.

Blue explains the days ahead. Tomorrow night is the chariot ride throughout the Capitol, which means I am left most of tomorrow to myself to figure out my plan for the Arena.


	5. Chariot Ride

**A/N- Thanks for reading this far! I can promise you that it just keeps getting better from here! Please write a review, it makes my day when you do. :) **

I spend the next morning talking with Alistair about the other Tributes and our strategy in the Games, and then with about 4 hours to spare until the chariot ride, Blue drags me away to start to get ready.

Once again, my legs are completely stripped of hair. But this time, they remove all hair on my body, leaving me feeling plucked like a bird. Blue finally lets me cover myself with a thin dressing gown. My hair is brushed for over half an hour by my prep team as they struggle to remove the knots. It is then braided along the front and down the side of my face. Blue pulls it back with a band, and starts on my make-up.

The costumes that the Tributes wear on the chariot ride are meant to represent their districts industry, for example, the District one Tributes are always covered in semi-precious stones to symbolize their industry of leisure. Blue orders my costume be brought in, and it's definitely not what I thought it would be. Poppy and Cecilia carry in a pile of wheat, similar to the stuff we harvest in eleven, and they dump it all on the plush sofa, pulling disgusted faces and wiping their precious Capitol hands with a stray piece of material.

"We don't even know if it's going to work!" Blue says happily. _Great, _I think. I am either going to be covered in wheat for the chariot ride or stark naked. I guess I can wave goodbye _to sweet and innocent_.

I am told to strip naked again, and Blue starts weaving the wheat stalks together, creating a chain of them. Then I notice the glistening colours intertwined. She has re-created my token! The costume turns out to me a mix of the wheat and nakedness, with the wheat loosely wrapping around my upper midriff, and doing the same down at my groin. She takes the last piece of wheat, which is covered in more of the small glass beads, and wraps it around my forehead. Cecilia then proceeds to cover me in a shimmery gold powder, and drapes my long hair over my slim body.

The mirror reflects someone else's image back at me, someone beautiful. The lack of clothes compliments my body well. I go to hug Blue for her efforts, but I remember I am covered in gold dust.

My prep team and stylist walk me to the elevator. The door opens, and Alistair is already in there. It seems his prep team have matched us, only he looks much, much better. The wheat is knotted at his groin also, but without the beads. His body is amazing, and looks much stronger than I thought he was. He is also covered in the shimmery gold dust, and is trying to dust some of it off his broad shoulders when he looks up.

"You should wear that more often", he says with a wink as I hop into the elevator with him. I laugh and give him a push, but when I step away, there are two hand prints on his chest and I keel over laughing. He looks down at his chest and tries to dust them off but it doesn't work, so he grabs me around the waist and puts a hand print on my back. I squeal and try to dust it off but I can't reach, so to get him back I slap his leg. We are both covered in hand prints, laughing our heads off. Alistair grabs my waist again, but this time pulls me closer. I stop laughing. He takes one arm off my hip and puts his hand softly on my cheek. His fingers trace my jaw line, lips, and then he moves in and kisses me gently. I do not hesitate to kiss him back. A warm feeling rises inside me and I know I won't be the first to pull away. The elevator stops. I can feel his head jerk a bit, hesitating, but ignores the fact that the doors are opening. I can hear people talking, preparing the tributes for the chariot rides. A sharp ding, announces are arrival, and as if it was staged, all eyes turn to the open elevator doors. He pulls apart, and we both turn to face everyone.

Angela's mouth is hanging open, and she drops her clipboard. Her blue wig is slightly off centre. Marc gives us both a piercing look, and the rest of the tributes, who's faces I can see for the first time just gawk at us. Then I remember the hand prints.

"It's not what it looks like", I say quickly, looking down. My cheeks burn. If it wasn't for the gold dust they would be bright red. Another elevator bings, and Blue and the prep teams step out.

"The costumes really are a must see-", she cuts off mid-sentence when she sees us standing in the elevator. "You have five minutes until the first chariot leaves, you'll just have to go like that." I can tell she is disappointed with me.

Marc leads us over to the district eleven chariot. Alistair gives me a hand to help me up.

From on the chariot I am able to see all the other tributes. The two lining up about to leave on the far right are district one. The boy is huge, towering above the small but stocky girl. She has purple hair and a mean look on her face. I don't think I like her. The next across is district two, three and four, the rest of the Careers. One girl catches my eye. She is nearly as tall as the district one boy, with flowing blonde hair and tan skin. _District four, fishing._ I think to myself. She is fighting with the boy from her district. He is trying to put his arm around her waist, present themselves as a couple to the Capitol, but she refuses, slamming a fist into his shoulder. Her mentor, a lady called Mags, calms her down and she puts her head in her hands, apologising to the boy who is rubbing his shoulder and looking frustrated.

None of the other tributes really make an impression on me, seeing as though I am yet to see what they can do in the training centre. It is nearly time to leave and I grip the front of the chariot, my knuckles turning white.

"If this is anything like the car ride to the train station back at eleven then I might jump off", Alistair says jokingly. It's the first time he has said anything since the kiss and I wonder if it even meant anything to him. _Does it even matter anymore?_ I tell myself. I will be dead in a number of days anyway. I start to wonder how I will die, and if Alistair will win the games. As if to answer the question I just asked myself, he slides a hand round my waist, steadying me. I release my tight grip on the chariot, but grab onto it again when our chariot starts moving.

The chariot slides out into the light, and a thousand hands wave at me. I wave back, blowing kisses to the Capitol people, and they reach out to catch them. I honestly don't know who could ever love these freaks but I certainly don't. I look down at my costume, the pretty glass beads play in the light, and I flick my hair back over my shoulders. He pulls me closer to him, and we wave and wave until we enter the tunnel at the other end. I wonder what my family and friends will think of my provocative costume back home, and once again I feel my cheeks burn red.

When we arrive back to the training centre, Alistair walks me back to my room. When we arrive, he turns me around like he did on the train.

"The kiss-"

"I understand if you didn't mean it I just-"I say quickly, stumbling over my words.

"I meant it." He says, giving me a small smile.

"I.. um.. "

"You better get some rest," he says, "training tomorrow." He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, leaving me standing at my door.

I climb into my bed, confused and tired. But as always, it takes me next to no time to drift off. To my place. To a place where families aren't tormented at the thought of losing a beloved child to the reaping. Where we can live in peace, where there is no Hunger Games.

Oh how I wish I could live in my dreams.


	6. Training

I wake up on the morning before training begins with the light from the windows blinding me as Alistair pulls the curtains open. I swear loudly, realising that I should have been up hours ago. Alistair is already in his compulsory Tribute body suit for training. His muscles bulge through the material. I pull my eyes away from his amazing figure and swing my legs out of bed into a pair of fluffy slippers. I make my way over to the bathroom in my underclothes, and shriek when I remember Alistair is in the room. He laughs, and makes my bed. I have a quick shower to rid myself of the gold dust that was still on my skin from last night and wrap my hair in a towel. Wriggling into my body suit, Alistair and I walk down the hallway to the breakfast room, where Angela, Marc, and the two prep teams and stylists are just finishing.

"Eve you are so incredibly late!" says Angela to me over her clipboard. Alistair smirks. I punch his arm.

"Hey! No Physical engagement with other tributes before the Games start!" He says in mock pain, rubbing his arm.

"I think you two have already broken that rule." Marc grumbles, eating toast. This shuts both of us up.

We eat breakfast in silence, listening to Marc talk about allies and which training stations to go to first.

When we arrive down in the training room, most of the Tributes are already sitting down together, listening to the Gamemakers tell us about the different stations. Alistair and I move off to the spear throwing station with a bunch of careers, but soon enough to my embarrassment, I find that I am not strong enough to even lift the spears, forget throwing them, so I walk over to what looks like a martial arts station. One person is already there, the girl from district four. She is sitting down raking her blonde hair into a high pony tail. When she sees me she smiles.

"Loved the hand prints", she says with a smirk. "Hi, I'm Nimiane." She holds out a hand and we shake.

"Eve." I reply. "Shouldn't you be over with the Careers?"

"I actually can't stand them. The boy from my district," she points at him, "his name is Kai, he wanted us to act like a couple to get more sponsors but I wouldn't. The other four from one and two scare me."

We talk while we practice. The man at the station teaches me how to break a neck, and as I practice on a dummy, I wonder if I will have to use the manoeuvre in the Games. I turn out to be quite good at it. An hour later, I am delivering round-house kicks to a dummy's face and ducking and diving under the moving obstacles. But compared to one of those big careers, I wouldn't stand a chance.

Nimiane and I move on to the edible plants and berries station. We quickly learn how to tell what we can't eat. I am guessing that some of them might pop up in the arena so I pay close detail.

We decide to use our last hour before lunch to visit the weapons station. The boy from district one is throwing knives. Not throwing, _hurling_ them at the targets, getting a bullseye every time. We had been standing there gawking at him for about two minutes, when he suddenly turns around. We jump backwards a little bit, and he struts toward us, knives in hand. He is about to push through where we are standing when he stops. He holds the blade up to my face, twirls it in the light, and points it at my face. I gulp.

"You're very pretty, aren't you?" He drawls, tracing the blade around my mouth. I can't move. I feel Nimiane behind me and the district one boy looks up. He laughs, points the knife at me one more time in a knowing way, and continues walking to his next station.

"What a dickhead." Nimiane spits, picking up a large axe and pegging it at a dummy.

"Funny enough I don't think he likes me." I say, trying to keep my voice even.

I sort through the weapons lying on a table, being careful not to cut myself on the sharp blades. A glint catches my eyes and they widen as I uncover something I never even thought of being in the pile. A sickle.

We use them back in eleven to reap the wheat in the fields. I pick it up and run my fingers along the crescent shaped blade. You would have to be pretty keen to survive to use one of these as a weapon. To try it, I gently swing the blade against a dummy, and to my surprise, the sickle completely decapitates it. I am disgusted, but keep doing it until half of the dummy's heads are missing. Then I start to throw it, hitting every target I aim for. I forward roll on the ground and with the momentum, hurl the sickle at a dummy's head and lodge the blade into its forehead.

Happy that I have found something that I could possibly use in the arena, I turn back to the table to put it down and head over to lunch with Nimiane, who seemed comfortable throwing a trident around. She was also very good at shooting, probably from her naturally keen eyesight accumulated and passed down generations and generations from her fishing ancestors. I pile fruit and pasta onto my plate and we head over to a bench away from the others. I look over my shoulder for Alistair, and spot him sitting and laughing with the two Career girls. My heart drops. Will he abandon me in the games for the Career pack? Will he help them hunt me and the rest of the other tributes down? I think about the kiss in the elevator and realise that he was probably lying when he told me that he meant it. I can bet it was his way of gaining my trust so I am an easy kill in the Arena. What a fool I have been.

One of the girls says something and they all start laughing, banging their fists on the table. Annoyed that he seems to be enjoying himself so much, I abandon my lunch and stalk off to a new station to learn about snares. Once I feel that I have snared to perfection, I move to my last station, climbing. I climbed trees a lot when I was younger, and can clear them in no time due to my light weight.

Once I feel I can't climb any further up, I make myself comfortable leaning up against the trunk and sulk about the whole games ordeal until an announcement from a Gamemaker orders us exit the training room for dinner. **But before she climbs down the tree, she jumps right out of the page and wraps her fingers around your neck, strangling you. You try and unclasp her fingers from your neck but you are too weak and unfit from sitting around reading fanfiction all day, so you decide to ask her what she wants. Eve tells you the horribly long tale of her tragic and mysterious past, and when she is done, you see that you have cried so much that your skin is wrinkly and the room around you is knee-deep in your own tears and your cats saliva. She also asks you in the kindest, saddest, sweetest little voice in the history of the universe that you thought wasn't even possible to write the writer of this amazing fanfiction a little review. You happily take 5 seconds of your time to tell her that you appreciate her writing, and Eve is so happy that she bursts into sparkles and starts spewing rainbows.**


	7. The Games Begin

**A/N- hello everybody, okay I tried to write the interview and more days of training but it turned out to be so incredibly boring that I gave up and had no idea what to write. So the interviews have already happened and it is the day of the games! Oh and the training scores.. oopsy.. so I will put here :)**

**Eve-8**

**Alistair-9**

**Yaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy! We have finally gotten to the exciting nitty gritty stuff. Keep reading, keep me happy and may the odds be EVER in your favour.**

I lie in bed all night, unable to sleep. It is in the early hours of the morning and the light breeze from the open window causes me to pull the covers more tightly around me. A tear slides down my face, and immediately becomes cold on my check. I wipe it off with my sleeve and snivel. This is the only time I have left to show any weakness or let out any emotion. In the arena I must be mentally strong if I am to even survive the first day. "Survive?. " I say it bitterly out loud I must be kidding myself. I threw myself into training, thinking that I might have a chance but now I know I don't. If Alistair survives, he will take care of my family, and make sure they don't starve.

I look at my watch, two O'clock in the morning. I wriggle around in the dark until I find the edge of the bed and clamber out. I make out the shape of my dressing gown in the moonlight, swing it over my shoulders and head for the door.

I creep down the hallway until I reach Alistair's room. Hesitating a few times, I knock on the door quietly, half hoping he is asleep. It is almost funny how quickly he opens the door.

He is standing in the doorway in a loose white shirt, hair ruffled. He offers a sad, crooked smile and pulls me in for a hug. We haven't talked much since training, exchanging a few words at breakfast and dinner, but apart from that he seems fine with the Career's company, and I with Nimaine. I can tell he knows I am angry at him for deserting me but I need a hug anyway.

Five minutes later I am curled up in his arms crying my eyes out. _So much for being strong_. He holds me and makes comforting sounds, brushing the tears off my cheek.

"Hey, I think you need some sleep." He whispers. I nod, and he pulls the covers over me, tucking me in. "I'll sleep on the couch." He gets up but I won't let go of his hand. I pull him back down, he hesitates, but gets in and curls up around me, arms around my waist. After a while, I stop crying and fall asleep, only to be woken up by an alarm clock, blaring into my ear. Alistair is still asleep, arms still wrapped around me, so I shake him gently until he wakes up.

After breakfast, we have our last goodbyes with Angela, Marc and the Prep teams, and our stylists collect us to be taken to the arena.

My heart thumps as we walk through a concrete labyrinth of pipes and passages. We are under the Arena itself. Blue talks me through the procedure of entering the arena, which I am already familiar with from years of watching the Games with my family at home on TV. Sweat runs down my face as I try to keep my breathing neutral.

Blue sits me down on a sofa, guarded by Peacekeepers in case I try to make a run for it. She runs to get my Tribute outfit for the arena. I am very surprised with what she brings back. First I am put into a thin jumpsuit, and over that, a huge parka. Thick boots lace all the way up to my knees and my hair is secured back in a hair tie. She then removes something from her own pocket, my token. She secures it around my wrist and gives my hand a squeeze.

"Good luck," she says with a smile, and kisses me on the cheek. Several peacekeepers line up around me. _Is it time already_? I feel my head spin as I am walked to the glass elevator from which I will make my way into the arena by myself. I take a deep breath and step into the glass cage. I try to fiddle with my bracelet, all of a sudden it feels far too tight, but I find that my hands are shaking so bad that I can't even move.

A noise comes out of one of the nearest speakers, someone's voice, but I can't hear it clearly. The elevator starts to move and I begin to freak out, banging on the glass, Blue stands there, hands by her side. Tears streak down her face. Part of me, deep inside pity's her for going through this every year, but then I remember how despicable they all really are. Hot air floods the elevator, and I look up into the light, trying to make out my surroundings. Slowly but surely, the platform I am standing on stops, and the sixty second timer begins.

I look around. All twenty-four platforms are equally spaced out on the top of a valley in a semi-circle. I can hardly make out the Tributes' outlines on the other side, and nearest to me, about two hundred meters away is a small boy, hand to his forehead to block the sunlight, looking down into the jungle valley. I look down, and in a small clearing in the deepest part of the valley is the gold and gleaming Cornucopia, shining in the sun. I look back around to see the boy shrugging his Parka off and carefully sticking it back down on his platform. It must be thirty five degrees or more, and I am about to do the same when something tells me not to. Instead, I quickly pull it off and tie it around my waist.

_10_

Oh no. Oh God. I give myself a quick reality check.

_9_

My name is Eve Ventor.

_8_

I live in district eleven.

_7_

I have a family back at home who are all watching this on national television.

_6_

But that can't be right.

_5_

Because this is just a bad dream.

_4_

A _very, very_ bad dream. But I guess not.

_3_

I prepare myself to run.

_2_

I take a huge breath

_1_

A gong sounds, and before I even know it, I am running down as fast as my legs will take me towards the Cornucopia. Leaves, spines and tree roots rip at my legs as I run down the steep slope. I would be taking precautions about poisons in the spines and sap, but whatever poisons there are, there is sure to be something to heal it in the Cornucopia. Getting there first and then getting out is my best chance.

After sprinting for several minutes, something catches my eye. I dare to look around for a millisecond, and see the boy whose platform was next to mine running diagonally towards me. His teeth clenched together. There is nothing I can do except put my head down and run faster. Suddenly I hear a shriek, followed by a crashing sound. I guess I won't have to deal with him for a while. No cannon sounds, but I keep running anyway.

A few minutes later, I break into the clearing. My lungs sear with pain as I gulp air. I seem to be the first to make it to the Cornucopia. I jog over to the pile of stuff and give myself a few seconds to stare up at the nine meter high pyramid of supplies. Good haul this year. I yank a camouflaged bag out of the pile, rip the zip open and stuff it with two bottles of water, a small bottle of Iodine, a flashlight, a loaf of bread and a package of food I find, a medical kit, a sleeping bag and various other things I see. A glint catches my eye and my mouth falls open. A sickle. _In the arena._ I am about to shove it into my belt when I hear someone behind me.

"Allies?" I swing around, wielding the sickle. Nimaine is leaning on a trident, two bags slung over her shoulder and a bow and quiver of lethal looking arrows over the other. I grin.

"You bet."

I hear a shout from somewhere nearby and a cannon blasts. Nimaine turns to me.

"Let's get out of here before the others arrive." She says breathlessly, picking up the trident effortlessly, and we start running into the jungle**. I start to run, but an arrow flies into my back, coming up though my chest. Instead of blood, rainbows and Galleons (yes, that's right. **_**Harry Potter**_** Galleons) spew out of my chest. I look down at the gaping, colourful wound in horror. Suddenly, a little leprechaun leaps out of the whole in my chest and hovers in front of me.**

"**Hehehe hello there!" he says, pulling what looks like a mini Pikachu out of his mouth and using it as a seat in mid-air.**

"**Pika pika", Pikachu muffles. **

"**What the fu-"**

"**Shut up and listen," the Leprechaun says in a squeaky voice. He looks up at YOU through some weird inexistent time and space computer screen vortex. "You need to review this AMAZING story right now or your mum will die in approximately nine hundred and twenty eight seconds!"**

"**Shut up you stupid internet hacking troll!" Eve says. She goes to wack him with her fist but he pulls an ear bud out of his pocket and magic's himself out of the story.**

**Eves wound sucks itself back in and she remembers none of this. **

**K guys, REVIEW.**


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